Killing Vultures
by tenofswords
Summary: Postep for 'Crash and Burn'. Some injustices cannot be borne, and some wrongs must be righted. Mild Snickers, nothing deep or explicit.


**Killing Vulturesby tenofswords665**

**Disclaimer: **Concentrate on what cannot lie…me. Okay, I can, but I won't. I don't own CSI, and that's the truth.

**Notes:** This is another standalone I felt like putting out there while I work on some of my season 6 fics. This is set during season three, right after the end of 'Crash and Burn', so spoilers for it (and a tiny one for 'Assume Nothing') present if for some reason, you haven't seen this one. And yes, you do hear the crunching of Snickers bars in the background…nothing new there.

"_What were you, playing the odds? Hoping she would die before you had to spend a dime?"_

"_We're not liable here. We're not responsible for Mrs. Lambert's actions."_

"…_For what it's worth, that makes **me** sick."_

Catherine's earlier words reflected Sara's current emotional state. She felt sick to her stomach, sick to her soul. Today had been an exceptionally bad day for her…

Diane Lambert had had every reason in the world to be angry. The sleazy, money-grabbing scum down at Sillmont Healthcare had royally fucked her over, had chosen a few lousy grand over a human life. And the worst part was, that asshole manager had been right. Legally, they weren't responsible for the tragedy that had occurred. They couldn't even give Diane Lambert justice, or the innocent people who lay dead in the morgue their revenge.

They had all died because corporate greed had pushed a sweet old lady past her limit, and Sara couldn't even bring charges against the bastards responsible. It was beyond sickening. It was disgusting, and unforgivable.

And, just as a cherry on the giant crap cake, Hank Pettigrew, the wonderful, the amazing, the fucking _perfect_ Hank Pettigrew, had been cheating on her. Except, scratch that, he had been cheating on his real girlfriend, with _her. _Sara didn't even have the satisfaction of being the original girlfriend. She had been, she thought with a shudder, the piece of ass on the side.

She choked back a sob with some effort, and downed the rest of her beer, her third so far. No more, she decided. Going in to work with a hangover wouldn't solve anything. She needed to get it out of her system somehow, though…

Catherine, being Catherine, had tried to help, of course, and that after-shift drink had made her feel a little better. Cath had talked about how she'd been there, done that, got the heartbreak t-shirt and how in a week Sara would forget that Hank had ever existed.

But the two women just didn't have enough in common for Catherine to help Sara all the way. She needed another friend, one who was slightly closer to her, one who knew how to make her laugh, and smile. Someone with, say, a lantern jaw and a gentle southern accent…

A knock at her door. "Sara? You there?"

Right on cue.

Sara opened her door, and there was Nick. She could tell by his tentative smile that he knew already.

"Man, gossip moves like lightning in that lab, doesn't it?"

The big Texan smiled more easily and nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Can I…" he motioned to her hallway.

"Oh. Sure." Sara stepped left, inadvertently blocking him as he tried to get inside. A couple of mildly embarrassing repeats of this manoeuvre left them both laughing gently at their own awkwardness. They eventually got it right, and Nick brought out the box of chocolates he'd been holding behind his back. Dark Delights, her favourite.

"You remembered! Thanks, Nicky!" Sara smiled, the patented Sidle heart-stopper, or so Nick secretly considered it. Sara noticed the small diary Nick had in his other hand, which she strongly suspected was the **real** present.

"Er…this is just in case you feel like, y'know, writing it down. What I mean is, sometimes I find when I have a problem, or I'm feeling kinda low, writing it down makes it seem less important, sort of, puts it in perspective. Doesn't make it like it never happened, but…hope it helps." The grin on Nick's face was his usual sunny grin, but with something else that Sara couldn't quite place. Concern? Understanding?

Hope?

"Thanks, Nick." Sara was genuinely touched. "I really appreciate it."

There was a mildly uncomfortable pause. Then another. Sara cleared her throat.

"You, uh, wanna watch a movie?" Smooth. Very smooth. Sara felt her face redden slightly at that lame invitation, as she gestured to the TV.

To her pleasant surprise, Nick regained his easy grin and said "Sounds good".

Reaching for the remote, Sara flicked her television on as she searched for a good film among her DVDs. The opening theme of the Las Vegas news filtered through the speaker.

"Whoa, hold on a sec!" Nick suddenly seemed a lot more animated than a moment ago. "Do you mind if we just check the headlines?"

Sara blinked. "No problem." Truth be told, she could have thought of a better plan. What was on the news besides Diane Lambert's suicide move and the ensuing tragedy?

She soon found out.

"Good evening. On tonight's top story, Sillmont Healthcare is in the grip of scandal as information regarding their treatment of certain clientele has become publicly known.

"It seems that Sillmont refused to grant Diane Lambert, the 71-year old woman who rammed her car into Checkerbox bar and grill, the treatment she required to battle her recurring cancer, although Mrs. Lambert could not file an appeal, as treatment was never officially denied, merely withheld for an indefinite period. It is believed by the Las Vegas police that this action is what motivated Mrs. Lambert to respond in such an extreme nature.

"Thousands of outraged patrons have withdrawn their custom from Sillmont Healthcare, and financial experts believe that the company will soon face bankruptcy."

To say that Sara was stunned would be an understatement. What. The. Hell. How did the press find out about that? Neither she nor Catherine had said a word.

She then became aware of Nick staring at the TV with a small, unpleasant grin that was nothing like his usual carefree smile. Turning slowly towards him, Sara clicked off the TV.

"Nick…you didn't…have anything to do with this…did you?" Sara's voice was dark with suspicion.

Nick shrugged, looking far too innocent. "Me? Nah. Wouldn't waste my time…" But his eyes told a different story.

Sara leaned over towards him, wearing a frown. "If Grissom finds out about this, your ass will be suspended before you can blink!" Then she smiled. She couldn't help it.

"Thank you."

Nick relaxed, and smiled back. Dropping the 'I don't know' act, he said "Hey, I figure if you're gonna kill a bunch of vultures…"

"…use another bunch of vultures." Sara finished for him. The CSI's had all had more than a few cases compromised by press coverage and reporters who seemed to think the tape that said 'Crime Scene: Do Not Cross' meant 'Come on in and bring your camera.' It was nice to see them do something useful for once.

"Y'know, Catherine and I were the primaries on this case. We could get the finger pointed at us."

"Not likely. The case is already over, no one was ruled guilty. Doesn't really matter what the press find out." Nick had thought about this.

"So you're gonna tell Grissom that you did it?"

"Not a chance. He'll say it was none of our business, that we focus on the evidence, blah, blah, blah." Nick knew he was right. No way would Grissom see it from their point of view.

Sara turned a little more serious now. "Listen, Nick, don't think I'm not glad to see Sillmont get theirs for skimping on an old lady's health, but the press don't always play by our rules. On another case, doing this might hurt justice instead of help it."

Nick was nodding easily. "Don't worry, I know when to keep quiet" he said confidently, not knowing that the words 'Murder Central' and an old acquaintance named Kevin lay in his future…

But for the present, Nick turned his attention back to Sara, and suggested that she put 'Notting Hill' into the DVD player.

By the end of the evening, which also involved dinner and wine, Sara had forgotten that Hank Pettigrew ever existed.

For now.

_**The End.**_

**AN: **So, waddaya think? Hope you enjoyed reading it. The little button at the bottom of the screen lets me know. Praise, flames, indifference, it's all good. But don't leave me with nothing at all. Please?


End file.
